


Surrounded by warm light (and all you can see is darkness)

by evanescentdawn



Series: Jack Kline-centric [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s14e19 Jack in the Box, Everything Hurts, Gen, Like so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescentdawn/pseuds/evanescentdawn
Summary: He’s scared. Shh, it’s okay, Sam wouldn’t lie. It will be quick. Sam said so. Dean said so. But—
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Kelly Kline, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Series: Jack Kline-centric [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707172
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Surrounded by warm light (and all you can see is darkness)

It’s so dark.

“Sam... why are you being so nice to me?” He asks because he just doesn’t understand.

_Dean hates me, why don’t you?_

“Because, I have seen evil,” Sam says, looking into his eyes. “Believe me, I know. And Jack—you are _not_ evil.”

Jack wants to believe him so much, but he _can’t_.

It’s so dark. (He’s scared.)

Sam looks at him like it physically hurts. “No, no, Jack…” He shakes his head. “I know what it’s like to have darkness inside you, feeling lost and... being scared of yourself, of who you are, what you can do...” Sam continues, so quiet and sad (as if he’s remembering something terrible). “But Cas and Dean—my family helped me through it.”

He steps forward and lends a hand out to him. _Will you let me help you?_ Sam smiles, so very soft and kind—so genuine, it aches.

Jack takes it without hesitation.

They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. They want to help him.

_Here, he doesn’t have to hurt anyone—can’t hurt anyone. It's okay._

“I am coming too,” Jack says, determinedly, expecting a rejection, an angry shout of _no, you will only make things worse_ but—Sam looks at him, _stares_ and says, “Okay,” easy and half-smiles, tense and strained, as he places a pat on his shoulder.

(Warm when everything has been so cold lately.)

It’s dark. So cold, sosoc _old_ —

_Sam?_

He is nothing, has _nothing_ left. (human and useless. human and weak.)

“Oh, no.” Castiel shakes his head.“That’s just not true—you got me, you have all of us,” He places a hand on his shoulders and smiles. “You have your family.” 

And Jack really can’t _breathe_.

 _Shh,_ It’s okay.

Baby, you’re going to be _amazing._

“You are strong, kid, ” Dean tells him. “But even when you’re strong…things are going to happen. You’ll make mistakes. No one’s perfect. But we can get better. Every day, we can get _better_.”

_Stay here, only for a short while—we’ll find a cure. This is for your good and everyone else._

_Don't you want to get better?_

Sam stands tall against the Devil, eyes fierce, and says, “I don’t care. He's family.”

And Jack thinks, _maybe_ he can do this.

He can do it. He _has_ to do it. _Shh_ , it’s okay. Soon. Soon. They said it will be quick. They wouldn’t lie.

“What you did today...” Castiel laughs. “It was amazing. I am _so_ proud of you.”

And Jack can’t help but smile, all warm and pleasant inside (you did something good today, you saved a _life_ ).

They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. Everyone makes mistakes. They didn't let Dean rot here... so they wouldn't do that—not to him. He’s family.

Jack loves them, all of them, so much. Their love for him is soft, so soft, and tender, bright and silent and so overflowing, _unconditional_ and sometimes, _sometimes_ Jack feels it’s too much.

It’s so dark, so cold. The Devil is whispering in his ear. Echoing, echoing, _echoing_ —

Jack tried. He’s trying. And he will try till he gets it—till he gets it _right_.

But—

He keeps failing; he keeps on letting them down, keeps bringing the world _down_ instead of _up_.

“You sure… you’re—okay?” Dean asks.

“Yes,” Jack says as he coughs and coughs and chokes out blood. “Y-Yes.”

(He’s not.)

It's so dark. He can barely breathe.

He’s so sorry, he never means to but sometimes, he’s scared, the world is too loud—he just wants it to stop. But people get hurt.

Sometimes he's angry. There's restless energy pulsing inside him that makes him do stuff that is wrong and he should stop—but he doesn’t.

He wakes up to the grief, the blood and the screams with his hands cold, so very _cold_ —

and doesn’t know what to do.

(He knows he can’t stay.)

“Tell me, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.” 

Dark. So dark, sosod _ark_ —

Jack is Lucifer’s son, and that’s all that people see. But—he’s _human_ , too. He is also his mother’s child. He is Jack Kline. He just wants everyone to see that. But sometimes, sometimes, Jack can’t see that.

 _Son_ , the Devil smiles, _it's okay_. No, no, no, _no_ —

Sam suddenly steps back, breath shaky, eyes wide open and hands up.

“You’re—scared of me.” Jack realises painfully. Sam’s scared of him. Why shouldn’t he? He’s evil, _evil_ (you killed that man, he had a family, a life, and you took _everything_ away from him.)

“No, no. Jack!” Sam says but Jack can barely hear him.

“Sorry,” Jack says, but it’s not enough, it will not bring the man back. It will not clean the stain of blood from inside the cracks and concrete. “I can’t stay.”

It’s so dark.

“You did good, kid.” Dean mutters as he pats his shoulder, “Real good.”

He doesn’t know what’s out there. What’s coming for him, what’s next, but he can remember his mother’s bright love and a strong belief in him and—he can’t stop. He has to try.

_if they trusted you, why did they lock you up (they didn't lock Dean up did they?)_

Castiel is not here. They tell him he’s dead like his mother (and it’s his fault, his fault, his _fault_ ).

But Sam looks at him and smiles and says _you are worth all this_ and—Jack believes a little. He has to believe.

It’s so dark.

“You're family, kid.” Dean flicks his forehead. “And we look after our own.”

Family, family, _family_. They wouldn’t.

Sam hands him the knife and tells him to kill him, his _father_ , and it’s the easiest decision to make.

Jack takes the knife. “I love you.” he tells Sam, wishing he had more time with his family, wishing he had time to _live_ when he turns it inwards despite Sam’s horror and shout of — “ _Jack_!”

He could never kill his family, his father. The one _good_ thing in life. 

He believes him. He can’t _not_ believe Sam.

It's so dark. It's okay.

Dean is angry. Dean hates him. Again. And Jack doesn’t know what to do.

Dean would do it, Dean would. But—he forgave him, didn’t he? Pulled him in and said, family. He loves him.

He wouldn’t. 

_Really? Are you sure._

“Oh no, please don’t be sad,” Jack whispers, looking at this wonderful, wonderful man who is like a—no, who _is_ his father (one of them), who looks so sad now that Jack can’t bear it. Can’t bear the utter despair on Sam’s face and the helplessness pushing at his shoulders. It hurts something inside of him.

“Sam, _Sam_ maybe... this is just—how it’s supposed to be.” He tells him, smiles at him and there’s a small part, a very small part of Jack who’s scared, who hates that he’s dying. Who doesn’t want to die but... _stay_. But he can’t say that.

He can’t tell that to Sam when everything is so brittle these days.

He’s afraid he will shatter that thin, fragile line of glass keeping their heads above water.

“I love you,” Jack says, instead, smiling tiredly. “You, Cas and Dean—” Jack looks at his other fathers, standing with grief stained faces. “You’re my family,” _all I have_ “I love all of you so much. You did everything you could. Thank you.”

They saved him when he didn’t deserve it.

“I love you too,” Sam whispers, face scrunched up in pain, like it takes all his strength, his arms gently wrapping around Jack. Jack melts in the soft and very warm embrace.

Jack thinks as he coughs and sobs a little, he can feel Sam smiling, a little now, as he takes his last breath.

_I only wish I had more time._

It's so dark.

 _What?_ Jack thinks as he looks at this man who’s supposed to be his father, no no _nono_ — Jack takes a step back. “You’re not my father,” He tells Lucifer because he’s not. He can’t be. He won’t be. He _isn’t_. Sam is, Cas is, Dean is—not, not _this_. This—

“Monster. You’re a _monster_ .” He says, horrified and thinks recklessly, _naively_ Lucifer looks sad at his statement. But no. That couldn’t be. He’s lying again. Jack is sure.

(He killed that woman with no regret and is even boasting about it. And Jack knows he won’t ever become that, won’t ever let himself.)

Mary is dead, and he feels so, _so_ empty inside.

“Maybe I am not worth all this.”

“Your mom thought you were,” Sam says but she’s _dead_. “...So did Cas.” But he’s _dead_.

Then, Sam adds, “So do I,” his eyes full of belief as he looks at him, but Jack can’t see it. He wants to though, wants to see it _so_ much.

_What’s worthy in this body?_

It’s so dark. _  
_ _  
_ “Are you okay?” Cas asks, worried.

“I’m fine..” Jack assures him. “I’m fine. I’m _fine_.”

(He’s not.)  
  
He can hear the Devil’s voice. Over and over again. Shattered glass. Sharp blood. Empty, (cold cold) white hands.

 _They left you; they abandoned you,_ the Devil whispers. No. **_No_**. They wouldn’t. They said it will be quick. They wouldn’t lie.

He’s scared. _Shh_ , it’s okay, Sam wouldn’t lie. It will be quick. Sam said so. Dean said so. But—

No. _No_. They wouldn’t.

It’s so dark.

He can barely breathe.

The Devil has it’s slimy, black fingers in his heart, squeezing, _squeezing_.

“Sam?” It’s so dark.

“Guys…I don’t think...I like this...” Please. Open up. They said it would be soon. He can wait.

Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Soon. Soon.

(Days? Years?)

“Sam?”

“Guys...are you still there?”

It’s okay. They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.

It’s so dark.

“Sam? Dean?” Again and again.

No response.

The Devil smiles in the dark at him, so terribly _pleased_.

You killed their mother— _family_. There’s no coming back from that.

No. No. No— nonono _no_ —

_SAM? DEAN?_

_CAS?_

Nothing answers and the Devil is laughing (shattered glass & sharp blood) and Jack bangs, bangs, _bangs_ , shouts—louder and _louder_ —

but

no one comes.

  
  



End file.
